


Character Bleed

by fictocriticism



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictocriticism/pseuds/fictocriticism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kurt and Blaine break up, Chris and Darren don’t respond well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Character Bleed

The knocking was quiet but insistent. Ignoring it hadn’t done anything so Chris resigned himself to dealing as quickly as possible with whoever was outside.   
  
He opened the door with excuses already waiting on his lips but no opportunity to say them as Darren pushed past him into the small living space.   
  
“Darren?” he asked, following him inside. “What’s going on?”  
  
Darren looked... awful. Like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was loose and completely in disarray, his t-shirt was crumpled, and his eyes reddened. Chris continued until he was face to face with the other man and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“Are you okay?”   
  
Darren took a deep breath in what seemed to be an attempt to calm himself.   
  
“Have you seen the script?” His voice was raspy and soft, and the sound of it sent a pang of protectiveness through Chris. He never wanted Darren to sound like this - so _broken_.   
  
“The script?” he repeated confusedly. “Uhh, I have it somewhere around here. I haven’t read it yet, hang on...”   
  
He bustled about the trailer searching, finally finding the script underneath the couch. By this stage, he had convinced Darren to at least sit down and he looked so young and defenceless. His arms were wrapped around himself and his legs tucked up on the couch - he was taking up barely any space on the cushions and Chris was forcibly reminded of just how compact Darren was.   
  
He settled himself down onto the other end of the couch, close but not touching any part of Darren. He had just opened the script when he felt Darren’s sock-covered toe nudge against his thigh.   
  
“Yeah?” he murmured while slowly skimming pages.   
  
Darren unfolded himself a little in order to reach over and flip the pages, settling against Chris’ side. He could feel their arms connect and his skin warmed where Darren’s skin met his. He realised with a start that Darren had finished fidgeting with the scrip. It was opened to a scene of Kurt and Blaine in Kurt’s bedroom.   
  
Chris read it as quickly as he could, feeling the tension radiating off Darren. It was a little distracting, to be honest; the press of another body against his, the complete disregard for his careful boundaries. Truthfully, Darren frequently pushed through Chris’ carefully set space boundaries and try as he might, Chris couldn’t seem to resent him for it. It frustrated him how quickly he grew accustomed to the feel of another person, and the number of times he fell asleep to visions of Darren’s hands on him was ridiculous: innocent touching at first that was modelled on their daily interactions before it segued into something far more imaginative, daring, and fucking _hot_. He blamed his astonishing lack of a personal life; of course he would dream about the person he saw the most.   
  
He was knocked out of his mental wandering by the script.   
  
“Hang on. Are they breaking up?” he asked incredulously. “Before the end of the season? _What_?”   
  
Darren snuggled in a little closer, his head tucked up on Chris’ shoulder. Chris patted his curls absent-mindedly, his other hand running down the page as he read through the scene. It was a good scene, he admitted to himself. Sensitive, heart-breaking. Sort of mutual. It was exactly how a break-up between these two would go, he thought.   
  
But he didn’t want them to break-up.   
  
Darren’s obvious love for ‘Klaine’ created many obnoxious interview responses about him loving everything about his on-screen relationship. In response, Chris quite frequently talked about wanting further challenges, something to throw off the balance of Kurt and Blaine. Every time he finished one of those interviews, he’d have a message or an email from Darren.   
  
_< Am I not challenging? I’m hurt>_ one had read. Another said _< Why would you want to split the dream team? Don’t leave me.>_  
  
Darren seemed endlessly concerned about how the fans would react to a future split.   
  
“They represent so much,” he’d whispered quietly to Chris one night while they had played Mario Bros on Darren’s Wii. “I don’t like the idea of suggesting that it might not last.”   
  
Chris, heart clenching at the pained look on Darren’s face, replied, “Not everything good lasts forever, Dare.”   
  
Darren had shot him an unreadable look. “It should.”  
  
Chris set his script down on the table and when he sank back into the couch cushion, he wrapped his arm around Darren’s shoulders. He seemed so much smaller like this, and Chris avoided thinking about how well he fit against his body.   
  
“Come on, it won’t be that bad.”  
  
Darren just shook his head, curls tickling under Chris’ chin.   
  
“Yeah, I know,” Chris sighed. He couldn’t deny that the thought of Kurt and Blaine breaking up was terrifying. Darren was his touchstone now on set - they shared so many scenes together, and even when they weren’t in the main action, they both took so much time to make sure their movements were realistic and authentic for two young boys in love.   
  
Chris didn’t like to think about how much discussion and preparation that had required for him. But luckily between Darren’s previous experiences (with women) and Chris’ experience with, you know, actually being gay, they managed. It was going to be difficult to break that routine. They read each other now in a way that the rest of the cast laughed about. They knew where each other were all the time, and that’s assuming they were ever really apart.   
  
“There’s nothing we can do about it now. We’ll think about it tomorrow. Just stay here for tonight, okay?”  
  
Chris rubbed his hand soothingly along Darren’s shoulder and back, feeling the tension holding there. He pressed on his shoulder blade firmly, just hard enough to feel the muscle shift and Darren jerked up. He pulled his head off Chris’ shoulder with a disgruntled look that had Chris chuckling while dragging the other man to his feet.   
  
“Teeth,” he said authoritatively, steering Darren into the bathroom. He watched in quiet amusement while Darren brushed without even looking in the mirror, his eyes - when they were open - drifting around as if too tired to focus on anything.  
  
In the bedroom, he found Darren’s emergency pair of boxers and quickly slipped outside to change into his own. When he opened the door once more, Darren was spreadeagled on the bed, his nose snuffled into a corner of one of the pillows. Chris pushed him gently onto the left side of the bed (he preferred sleeping in the middle, but at a pinch he’d take the right. It was closer to the door and he’d always been taught to sleep closest to the door in case of of a crisis.) He smoothed a hand over Darren’s forehead, pushing away the curls, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead.   
  
“Good night. Try and sleep, okay?”  
  
Darren mumbled a response that may have been his name as his breathing evened out in record speed. He shouldn’t be surprised, Chris considered, after the state Darren had arrived in. Now that his friend was down for the count, Chris felt his own eyes start to droop. He rolled onto his side, facing Darren, and reached a foot out to tentatively brush against Darren’s ankle. He blinked slowly, filling his vision with Darren’s relaxed and honestly beautiful face. It was the last thing he saw before he succumbed to darkness.   
  
The next morning when Chris woke up, Darren had rolled onto his back with one arm flung over his head and the other stretched out towards Chris. Chris let himself run his fingers along Darren’s wrist before sliding quietly out of the bed and down to the shower.   
  
He leaned against the shower wall and let the water run over his head, forcing his eyes closed. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that his world was shifting. And he didn’t like it.   
  
***

  
The scene was _hard_. They had talked it through nearly a hundred times before hand but ultimately, it was always going to be a horrible scene to shoot.   
  
Chris had never felt so aware of the watchful eyes on set. Even during their quasi sex scene, the pressure hadn’t been so intense. Mostly that was because of Darren, he could admit. Darren had giggled with him, poked him in the ribs, pressed their knees together and cheerfully discussed how happy he would be to do this job forever if it meant he got to snuggle with Chris all day.   
  
That day couldn’t be further from what was happening now. Darren was hunched in on himself over on the other side of set. They’d tried to stay close, but it was difficult to stay in character around each other like this. It hurt, as both Kurt and Chris, and eventually he just needed distance.   
  
Ryan called places (he was overseeing this scene, and was easily the most nervous Chris had ever seen him) and Chris dropped his face into his hands, allowing the grief and pain to expand in his chest. A quick glance at Darren had his heart contracting and suddenly Kurt’s emotions weren’t so far out of sync with his own.   
  
The dialogue didn’t really seem to matter, and neither him nor Darren got through their lines exactly as they were written. Both of them were in tears by the end of the shoot, and after a few more takes Ryan called it a day, encouraging them both to chill out for the afternoon.   
  
They stumbled back to Chris’ trailer and collapsed onto the well-worn couch, exactly as they had so many times before. This time felt different and Darren immediately curled into Chris’ side, his fingers gripping tightly on his shoulder. They sat in silence; after a day of hurtful words, the quiet was a balm.   
  
Eventually, when Darren’s stomach rumbled loudly, Chris pushed them both up and out into his car. This needed alcohol and takeaway. He didn’t really know what he was feeling, but he didn’t want to feel it any longer.   
  
***  
  
When Chris opened his eyes the next morning the first thing he saw was Darren’s face. The other man was still sleeping and Chris took a moment to drink in every detail he could.   
  
He didn’t know why this was hitting him so hard. Conceptually, he had known that Kurt and Blaine would hit struggles somewhere along the line. He knew that the longer the show continued, the more likely it was that they would have fights. He just didn’t expect that it would hurt this badly. It signalled the end of their interactions on set, limited as they already were. He couldn’t help but think it would have greater repercussions than that.   
  
Chris rolled onto his back with a sigh. There was no point moping about it. He just had to buckle up and move on.   
  
He refused to question why his stomach dropped at the thought. Instead, he slipped out of bed and padded out to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help clear his head.   
  
***  
  
The next time they were on set together was nearly ten days later. It was their first group scene since the break up and Chris was careful to stay on the other side away from Darren, trying to pay attention to whatever Cory was doing with his feet (honestly, he couldn’t seem to work out his left from right).   
  
“Cut!”   
  
Chris started when he realised he was staring at Blaine again, blushing at the way he had instinctively moved closer. Darren (or was he still Blaine?) caught his eye and gave him a sad smile.   
  
“This is hard,” Darren said, his hands wringing a little awkwardly.  
  
“It feels weird,” Chris agreed. His body kept wanting to move within Darren’s orbit, the way it used to.  
  
\---  
  
 _Darren’s hands are on his hips and he bodily pushes him out of the way of the sink. When Chris protests, he just laughs.  
  
“Come on, Chris. We’re supposed to be dating! We’ve been dating over the summer, remember? Blaine would be a handsy fucker and you’re just going to have to get used to it.”  
  
And so he did. _  
  
\----  
  
Apparently, getting used to Darren being more touchy than strictly necessary wasn’t the problem. Getting un-used to it, however, was proving to be nearly impossible. All Chris could think about was Darren’s hand casually reaching for his, the way his arm felt wrapped around his waist.    
  
“We’ll be okay,” he said, trying to keep his gaze direct. Darren looked doubtful, but nodded anyway.   
  
***  
  
Darren and Grant watched the scene from the viewing section. He tried to stay focused on Lea and Cory - he might not have much to say, but it’s still important and deserves his attention. Because he’s a _professional_.   
  
He certainly didn’t watch Darren and Grant whisper to each other behind their hands. After all, Grant is lovely. He was pleased to hear that he was offered a regular spot for next season. It wouldn’t do to have Blaine lonely while Kurt was in New York after all.   
  
“--New York! I can’t believe you’re not happy for me!”  
  
Rachel was winding up now and Lea’s voice rang shriller and shriller with every word.   
  
On the other side of the set, Grant leaned over to push an escaping curl back into Darren’s gelled monstrosity, saying something that Chris assumed was less than kind. Darren laughed in response and ran a finger over the piping on Grant’s blazer. Chris pretended he couldn’t see the slightly wistful glint in his eye. Dalton felt a long time ago.   
  
“Cut!” the director yelled.   
  
Chris jumped so badly he nearly fell off his chair.   
  
  
***   
  
“Hey Chris, how’s it going?”   
  
Chris startled and almost knocked his laptop, balanced precariously on one knee, crashing to an early death. Before it could slide completely out of control, a steady hand gripped a corner and returned it safely to his lap. A side effect of suddenly being alone most of the time meant his nerves were shot.   
  
“Steady on, man!” Grant chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  
Chris usually never had his laptop at work but he had been so close to finishing a scene he had been struggling with for weeks, so he decided to risk it for once and bring it with him. For some reason, inspiration had been hard to find lately.   
  
“Just trying to finish a scene,” he explained, working to keep the frustration out of his voice.   
  
“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your momentum.”   
  
Grant looked so contrite that Chris smiled, waving him to the seat next to him.   
  
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll finish it eventually. So what are you doing lounging over here anyway? Thought you and Darren were shooting a scene today?”   
  
_Another_ scene, his brain helpfully reminded him. _THE scene_. He knew once Ryan mentioned Blaine and Sebastian having scenes together that it was likely that this was going to happen. He just hadn’t really considered how difficult it would be to see it happen.  
  
“Yeah, that’s, uh--, that’s the reason I wanted to talk to you actually.”   
  
Grant’s hesitant tone pulled Chris away from his laptop. Upon seeing the nervous look on the other man’s face, he pushed his laptop aside.   
  
“What’s up?” he asked softly. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he didn’t mind playing the role of mentor on set.   
  
Grant shifted a little uncomfortably, his fingers playing with the cuffs of his blazer. Idly, Chris wondered if they would shift Sebastian to McKinley next year. It might be the end of the Warblers for good.   
  
“I’m nervous about the kiss,” Grant said. “And word on set is that you are the person to talk to about that because you’ve kissed Heather _and_ Darren, and you’re good at it and I’m worried I’m going to screw it up and no one _likes_ Sebastian anyway, and god I didn’t mean to say all that. I’ll just shut up now.”  
  
He stopped talking, eyes wide and panicked. Chris couldn’t help a tiny chuckle.   
  
“Grant, just breathe,” he began. “Firstly, I am _no_ kissing master, okay? But more importantly, it will be fine. Darren is a professional, and he’s really chilled out. I don’t think you’ll have any problems. I mean, it’s acting right? I know you’re straight, but it’s really just like kissing a girl, I’m sure.”   
  
Grant shifted uneasily again. “Oh, I’ve kissed guys before. I just, you know, haven’t kissed them on camera.”  
  
Chris blinked, a little taken aback. He did not expect that.   
  
“Oh. Well--, then I guess you’ll be fine?” Chris couldn’t help the way that became a question. This had suddenly become a very different conversation to what he thought.   
  
Grant leaned forward and sank his head into his hands. “This is _so_ embarrassing.” The words were muffled, but Chris was pretty sure he heard them correctly.   
  
“Grant?”   
  
This was getting out of hand. The guy was an _actor_ for god’s sake - if he was going to be turned off by a bit of kissing in front of the camera, he might be struggling for work.   
  
Grant shifted one hand so he could speak clearly.   
  
“Look Chris, thank you for your help. I guess we don’t share the same problem here, so I’m just going to wallow in self pity for a moment before moving on. Feel free to get back to what you were doing earlier.”  
  
“I am so confused right now,” Chris said as calmly as he could. _What just happened_?  
  
Grant sighed. “I’m nervous about the kiss because it’s Darren, okay? I just--, well, I don’t want to get too carried away. In the moment.”   
  
“Too carried away? Why would you-- _oh_.”  
  
Chris froze, his eyes undoubtedly too wide to look natural. “You’re worried you might, what, get a little too into it? Because of Darren?”  
  
Grant looked at him carefully then. “Chris, you’re gay, right? You can appreciate a male form, I assume. Are you telling me you don’t find Darren attractive?”   
  
“What? Of course I’m gay, you idiot. I just, you know, haven’t really thought about Darren like that.”   
  
Grant raised his eyebrows so high they nearly disappeared into his hair.   
  
“You’ve rolled around on a _bed_ with the guy. I refuse to believe you haven’t even considered it.”  
  
“It was--, that was for a _scene_ , Grant. Jesus!”   
  
Grant just raised his hands in response. “Okay, okay, no need to get feisty. Anyway, my scene’s coming up soon so I’m just going to go agonise quietly in a corner. Thanks for your help.”  
  
And he walked away, leaving Chris floundering. And firmly decided that he would watch the scene. To support Grant.   
  
***  
  
Chris suspected he might be having a heart attack. There wasn’t really many other reasons for why his heart would be frantically beating against his ribcage.   
  
Regardless, he was not leaving the set. He couldn’t abandon Grant in his time of need. He was a mentor. And really, this kiss looked like it was really taking it out of both of them. They were flushed and a bit shy with each other. Blaine had Sebastian pressed up against the wall outside Scandals (and Chris’ inner Kurt cringed - he would have much preferred it the other way). Grant was so much taller than Darren, so Sebastian was bending his knees with Blaine standing in between his legs.   
  
Chris couldn’t take his eyes off Darren’s, no _Blaine’s_ , fists curled into Sebastian’s shirt. He looked desperate - they were supposed to be a little drunk after all - and Chris watched transfixed as Sebastian snuck a hand around Blaine’s neck, hauling him in closer.   
  
It was hot, to be honest. A kiss unlike most of the kisses Kurt and Blaine had shared. There was no sweetness and beauty, no _love_. This was about release.   
  
A moan drifted across to where Chris was sitting, and he felt his cheeks flush in response. Right. Time to leave.   
  
It looked like Grant was doing fine without him anyway.   
  
***  
  
It was the end of season three. They had finished filming, their schedules confirmed for next season, and they were having one final celebration.   
  
The club was noisy and Chris smoothed his button down once more, somehow managing to feel exceptionally young and awkwardly old at the same time. He was younger than the majority of the cast and he still got carded everywhere they went (unless the bouncers recognised them). Yet as he held onto his single rum and diet coke, watching his costars drink themselves steadily into ridiculousness, he couldn’t help but feel wise beyond his years. He didn’t mind drinking. He minded hangovers though.   
  
And anyway, he apparently couldn’t trust his drunk self after ‘the incident’ a couple of weeks ago.    
  
\---  
  
 _“Darren?”  
  
There’s mostly breathing on the other end of the line, snuffled noises as Darren wakes up. What time is it? Chris can’t quite work out what his clock says but he suspects that maybe he didn’t time this properly.  
  
“Chris?” he says sleepily, and Chris can’t help the smile on his face at the sound of his voice.   
  
“I missed you, Dare! So good to hear your voice. Tell me everything,” he says, slurs really, if he’s being honest.   
  
“Are you drunk?” Darren asks through a yawn, and he can hear the click of his jaw as it widens.   
  
“A little, I think? I was having a really nice night before. And then you weren’t here! Not anymore. So I thought I would say hello. Isn’t it nice to talk?”   
  
Chris is so excited about finally having a conversation with Blaine, oops, no, Darren, that he almost misses Darren’s next words.   
  
“It’s 4 in the morning, Chris. I gotta go, man.”  
  
And then there’s silence on his phone. Chris looks at it confusedly for a moment before realising it must have dropped out. But when he rings again, it goes straight to Darren’s voicemail.   
  
“I missed you. Did I say that already? Oops. You should come back to me.”   
  
And Chris fills the rest of the message with an awful rendition of Oasis’ Don’t Look Back in Anger. He makes a mean Gallagher. _  
  
\---  
  
Chris watched instead as Harry’s dance moves got significantly looser and wider the more drinks he had. He saw Grant on the other side of the room having a murmured conversation with Lea of all people - he didn’t expect that. They both seemed to be covertly sneaking glances at Darren.   
  
Darren was  in the middle of the dance floor with his arm wrapped around Heather’s neck. It should have been hilarious considering their height differences but instead it just looked fun and _happy_ and Chris ached at the pure joy on the other man’s face. They hadn’t really spoken much since the phone call, and Chris can’t seem to stop blushing at any thought of it.   
  
It was true - he did miss Darren. They had been so close. And he had a disquieting thought that perhaps he hadn’t realised that until it was a little too late. He tried not to focus on it often, because his thoughts tended to spiral from how Darren looked waking up next to him in the morning, how he felt tucked under his arm on the couch in his living room, how his lips felt when they kissed as Kurt and Blaine to how his past history suggested he liked women (although on weak moments he acknowledged their absolute lack of discussion on the topic).      
  
Darren’s hips gyrated against Heather’s and the pair of them looked disgustingly good together, stunning and flexible and _happy_. Chris downed the rest of his drink without even thinking about it and headed to the bar.   
  
It is only when he returned to their roped off section that he saw Grant dancing behind Darren, hands wrapped around his waist as Darren became the enticing middle in their attractive and sexy dance threesome.   
  
Chris needed to get out of here.   
  
“Chris!” Amber caught his wrists in her hands as he tried to escape. “Chris, baby, you look amaaaaazing tonight. I think you should hook up. Oh, how about him!”   
  
She pointed excitedly at a guy that Chris thought was most likely straight. He styled his hair and obviously did some manscaping as evidenced by his gaping shirt. But waxing did not make a gay man.   
  
“No thanks, Amber,” he said lightly as he tried to push his way past.   
  
“Oh come on, Chris! You look lonely, let me help you,” she pouted. “You’re my favourite, Chris, and I want you to be happy.”   
  
“Truly, I appreciate that, but right now I just need to get some fresh air, okay?”   
  
This time he succeeded in pulling his wrists free and moved through the press of the crowd until he discovered the doorway to the balcony. Finally, he could breathe again.   
  
The balcony was blissfully empty. He headed for one corner, leaning against the wall and drawing in deep breaths, feeling the air rush through his lungs. He was a mess. He couldn’t imagine his life without these people in it anymore. He was staying on for season four, in some capacity - Ryan had hinted at things like split storylines and Ohio University, but really they wouldn’t know until closer to filming. But they wouldn’t all be here. Dianna, Mark, and Harry were definitely not staying on board beyond a few episodes here and there. And it would never be the same once Kurt and Rachel graduated from high school anyway. Chris wondered how the writers were going to work around the fact that Kurt and Blaine’s break up was because of New York if Kurt ended up in Ohio anyway. Not that it might matter; after all, Grant was officially a season regular now. Chris pursed his lips a little, tension roiling in his stomach at the thought.   
  
He liked Grant. He really did. He just didn’t like Sebastian. And he really missed Blaine. And Darren. Especially Darren. God, what was going on with him?  
  
The door pushed open, exposing the noise of the music and laughter from inside. Chris couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised when the two people of his thoughts stumbled out. Darren was clearly drunk now, Grant either less so or better at hiding it. They leaned straight against the balcony railing, breathing deeply.   
  
“Aiiiiiiirrr!” Darren exclaimed dramatically. “I can breathe!”   
  
Chris couldn’t help but chuckle, and the sound had Darren and Grant turning to face him.   
  
“Chris!” Grant shouted, far too loudly considering the small distance between them. “You’re here! We couldn’t find you!”   
  
Chris gasped a little as Grant slung his arm casually around Chris’ shoulder. He wasn’t used to people just invading his space, except for Darren, and Grant was significantly taller than Darren. Grant’s hand gripped his upper arm, and Chris felt the touch like a brand. His eyes flicked to Darren’s and he was surprised to see the other man frowning, his eyes dark and unfathomable.   
  
“Having a good night?” Chris asked as innocuously as possible, attempting to keep the image of Grant, Darren, and Heather dancing ( _could you call it dancing?_ ) as far from his mind as possible.   
  
“Great,” Darren answered, voice short and clipped. It wasn’t a tone Chris heard from him often and he felt his own brow furrow in response.   
  
“Are you okay?” he asked. Grant’s arm tightened around him as he tried to shuffle forward and he felt the collar of his shirt pull in response, a breeze tickling the newly exposed skin.   
  
He swore Darren’s eyes flashed down for a moment, before hardening once more.   
  
“I’m fine, Chris. Having a great time. Letting loose. Enjoying myself. Why are you hiding away out here?”  
  
Darren sounded angry, harsher than ever before with Chris.   
  
“Just couldn’t get any air in there. It’s too crowded.”  
  
“Didn’t want to be too close to anyone?” Darren asked, almost mockingly, his eyes raking over where Grant’s body was pressed up against his.   
  
Chris was definitely confused now.   
  
“It just felt too tight,” he reiterated. “And it still does. I think I might go.”  
  
He slipped out from under Grant’s arm and headed towards the door.   
  
“May as well run away again then, Chris,” Darren said, and this time the alcohol was evident in his slurred voice.   
  
Chris spun on his heel to face him. Grant was standing to the side, his eyes wide and nervous - he clearly had no idea what was going on.   
  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”   
  
Darren just sneered at him, and it was so _ugly_ on Darren’s face that Chris almost misstepped.   
  
“Whatever, Darren. You’re drunk. Just..., just talk to me tomorrow or something, okay?”  
  
The exhaustion had caught up with him rapidly in the face of Darren’s anger and he blinked his eyes heavily. This was supposed to be a fun night for all of them. He didn’t know what went wrong.   
  
“Goodnight Grant. Darren.”  
  
He pushed through the heavy door and snuck through the crowded club without catching anyone’s eye. He sent a goodbye text to Lea as he got into a cab, pleading a headache.   
  
_ <No worries, lovely. Sleep tight xoxo>_ she wrote back.   
  
Chris leaned his head back on the seat. Darren’s face, harsh and frustrated, did not leave his mind for the entire ride home.   
  
***  
  
His phone beeped quietly from the bedside table. Chris rubbed his eyes. He should really stop using his laptop in bed. It wasn’t healthy. He’d been awake for over two hours and was still lying in bed.   
  
_ <So I was an ass last night. Can I buy you dinner?>_  
  
Chris lay the phone down on his chest and tried to breathe through the tightness clenching in his stomach. When he rolled into a ball a few minutes later, his phone dropped into the sheets.   
  
Later that afternoon, Chris braced himself and sent a quick reply.   
  
_ <Your shout. Takeaway?>_  
  
 _ <I’ll be there at 6>_ came the immediate response.   
  
This gave him three hours to clean the house.   
  
It was while he was vacuuming under the coffee table that he realised that maybe this wasn’t the way friends were supposed to interact. He missed Darren’s physical presence so much it ached. He hated seeing him with Grant despite that fact that apparently (and he stressed that word after Grant’s confession on set) they were both straight. He possibly had what some might call a _crush_.   
  
It was unfortunate and frustrating, and struck a chord a little too close to Clovis, to be honest. And Darren’s behaviour last night had been so _strange_. Hopefully without alcohol involved, Chris could divert the situation and they could move on, move back to how they once were.    
  
***  
  
Darren had Chinese grasped in one hand and a bottle of diet coke in the other. He held them out with a sheepish grin when Chris opened the door, and Chris just laughed and beckoned him in.   
  
“Did you get my favourite?” he asked teasingly as he directed Darren to the couch. He had bowls and forks out (Chris couldn’t use chopsticks and he had no intention of allowing Darren to tease him about it _again_ ) on the table, so they settled in to serving quickly.   
  
Once settled back into the cushions, watching Darren ladle enormous forkfuls of food into his mouth, Chris felt more comfortable than he had in weeks.   
  
“I’ve missed this,” he said.   
  
Darren’s shovelling paused.   
  
“Me too,” he responded quietly. “It’s been weird ever since the scene, hasn’t it?”   
  
Chris sighed, placing his bowl on the coffee table. He spun to face Darren on the couch, his hands unconsciously wringing a little in his lap.   
  
“Dare, I just wanted to apologise. I know I’ve been a little weird since then. I just, well, I think I was identifying a little strongly with Kurt, if you know what I mean...” he trailed off with a laugh.   
  
Darren just stared back at him, his eyes dark again like they had been last night.   
  
Chris faltered a little. “God, I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know things got a little weird, but I’ll get over it soon and then things can go back to normal, and I just--”  
  
Darren held up a hand gently, and Chris stopped in shock.   
  
“When you say go back to normal, do you mean you want to go back to before? When we would be around each other all the time and in each other’s space, and basically convince everyone on set that something must be going on anyway?”   
  
Chris blinked.   
  
“Uhh, I guess?” he said haltingly. That was not a question he had been expecting.   
  
“Well, I don’t want to go back,” Darren said, and Chris couldn’t stop his body recoiling slightly.   
  
“No, no I don’t mean that,” Darren hastened to add. “I just mean, uh, I have been identifying with Blaine a little too.”   
  
Darren reached out then and grabbed one of Chris’ hands, pulling it into his own lap.   
  
“Except that’s not it either, not really.”   
  
Chris tried not to focus on the feel of Darren’s fingers stroking gently across his palm.   
  
“I don’t think I’m just feeling Blaine’s pain anymore. I think I’m feeling my own.”  
  
Darren’s eyes were wide and anxious on his and Chris felt his heart constrict a little at the sight.   
  
“Darren, what are you trying to say?” Chris asked, his breathing uneven.   
  
In response, Darren leaned forward, cupped Chris’ face in his hands and kissed him.   
  
Chris gasped into his mouth on instinct, and Darren slipped his tongue in almost instantly, pushing into the kiss faster than Chris had ever imagined. And he had held himself back from imagining this too often, never sure about the implications but knowing instinctively it would be a _bad idea_. But now, with Darren’s tongue in his mouth and one hand on his jaw, Chris let himself relax into it. It was nothing like Blaine’s tender, heartfelt kisses. It was direct and open, and utterly revealing.   
  
He shifted forward on instinct and Darren immediately pulled him closer, their bodies working together in the way they had previously. Darren’s hand shifted to the back of his head, pulling gently on his hair, and Chris groaned low in his throat. He felt overheated, skin throbbing where Darren was touching him, and it wouldn’t be long before it would become obvious to all involved.   
  
Darren’s breath hitched as Chris bit down on his bottom lip and pulled back, mesmerised briefly by Darren’s instinctive attempt to follow his mouth.   
  
“Wow, Dare, that was--”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Darren smiled at him then, brightly and content, the closest Chris had seen him to Blaine in a long time and it was bittersweet.   
  
“Are you sure?” he asked tentatively. After all, it was Darren that potentially had more to lose.   
  
Darren held Chris’ gaze directly.   
  
“Of course I am. I’ve wanted nothing else for months now.”   
  
Chris couldn’t help the shocked gasp that came out of him then, and he turned his head away in embarrassment. Darren’s fingers, gently running along his cheek, brought him back.   
  
“Come here,” he whispered, pulling Chris closer and tucking him into his embrace so that he was murmuring into Chris’ ear. “You’re gorgeous, Chris. And funny, and amazing. Witty, intelligent, fantastic...”   
  
His words sent shivers down Chris’ spine.   
  
“You’ve made every day here worthwhile. I think the break up scene pushed me into realising that it wasn’t just about Kurt and Blaine for me. It was about Chris and Darren.”  
  
This time, it was Darren’s turn to pull away slightly and look down into his lap.   
  
“I know what you mean,” Chris said quietly, and Darren’s head raised a little, his eyes hopeful.   
  
“ _You_ have been off limits for me. But Blaine never was.”  
  
Chris leaned in then, pressing his lips quickly against Darren’s.   
  
“Now I’m going to enjoy thinking only of you,” he whispered before kissing him again, deeper.   
  
Darren smiled against his mouth.   
  
“Does this mean you’ll like me without bowties?” he asked, laughing when Chris snorted in response.   
  
“Can I not wear leather?”   
  
Darren laughed even louder before pulling an exaggeratedly offended face. “But I _like_ the leather, Chris. Please?”   
  
“Only if you lose the gel,” Chris said before pushing up to straddle Darren’s lap.   
  
Darren’s head fell back and he moaned as Chris ground down.   
  
“I think we might even be cuter than Kurt and Blaine, what do you think?” Chris asked, relentlessly moving his hips.   
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” was the only thing Darren said.   
  
It wasn’t a sweet, teenage first love. But it was something. And as Darren fell apart under Chris’ hands, Chris thought it might just be better.

  
  
<fin>


End file.
